The Rebel Prince (The Season Series #3)

Chapter 5

The only thing that cheered me were the words Giles greeted me with as he set down my breakfast tray.

"I have news of the prince and princess," he said, not bothering with the curtains since I'd been desperate enough for a cool breeze that I'd slept with all of the balcony doors and windows thrown open.

"They've returned?" I asked, wondering how long Giles would allow me to saunter about the room without a shirt before muttering something about proper attire for a prince.

"Not yet, but soon," Giles said, apparently choosing to ignore my near nudity, probably in solidarity with my disdain for the heat. He was already perspiring, having stubbornly refused to don anything cooler than his traditional Pretanian valet uniform, jacket and all.

"I've learned that the princess has been living at a convent for the better part of the past seven years," Giles said, pouring me some tea as I settled at the breakfast table.

I stared at the steaming liquid, debating whether I ought to simply ask Giles for a tub of ice so I could spend my day wallowing in it.

"A convent?" I repeated.

"Indeed," Giles affirmed, "Her brother was apparently sent to fetch her home in anticipation of Dulciana's arrival. Palace rumours say that they were delayed on their way here."

"Delayed on the road," I repeated, stirring my tea.

"Suspicious indeed. But I've confirmed it with a number of sources. The princess has not been to court in years," Giles said. "Now eat up, your Highness. Princess Ana-Cristina's birthday ball is tonight. Perhaps it would be a good time to evaluate how you intend to keep to the treaty."

"Yes, mother," I said, fixing him with my best impression of mother's icy glare. Giles didn't even bother to harrumph, instead setting his attention upon choosing my attire for the day.

Ana-Cristina's birthday ball, as if I could forget. She'd prattled on about it incessantly with her sisters at dinner, the lot of them once again assuming I couldn't understand Ardal. She'd listed every one of her many suitors who would be in attendance, all while Dulciana had fought to keep from scowling.

I didn't blame the older princess for her reaction, especially when there had been no celebration to speak of to fete her return. That the king was lavishing such a party for his third eldest daughter's seventeenth birthday was a slap in the face for Dulciana, meant to reinforce how unimportant her return was in the eyes of the king.

I'd have to be careful, though, for the next celebration the king announced for Dulciana could very well be her wedding.

To me.

A knock at the suite door interrupted my thoughts, Giles shooing me into the bedchamber to find a shirt before he answered. I reluctantly pulled on the first one I could find, too curious about who would be calling so early to care about the heat, for once.

"Your Highness, his Majesty the king has invited you to join him for breakfast," Giles said, "Let's get you dressed."

I peered over his shoulder before he could close the bedchamber door, a tall, dark-haired palace guard loitering in the entrance to the suite. His eyes narrowed as he inspected me before Giles closed the door between us, nothing friendly in his gaze.

The guard was still waiting when I emerged, fully dressed, some time later. He hadn't taken the liberty of seating himself, but he leaned against the wall, his eyes running over the room as if he owned the place.

"I'm to escort you, your Highness," the guard said, his Ardalonian accent more muted than I'd have expected for a mere guard. The bow he gave me, however, was decidedly curt, as it had been with every other guard I'd encountered.